Maria Bamford is and always will be an insider’s comedian. At times when you listen to her standup, it’s difficult to tell whether her jokes follow the typical setup-punchline formula or if they’re supposed to be a parody of that format. Sometimes it seems as if Bamford doesn’t really know herself. It’s that level of self-policing and self-awareness that makes her comedy as innovative and oddly accessible as it is, while making Bamford most comedian’s favorite comic.

It’s impossible to argue that this new season isn’t about Netflix. Early in “Wet Raccoon” we’re introduced to Maria’s later future — a reality where Elon Musk’s streaming service has greenlit her new show. All Maria has to do is sit down and have her brain scanned by a robot, and her show is approved because Muskovision needs more content about mental illness. The rest of the season jumps between that “Future,” Maria’s love-filled “Present Day,” and her often dreary “Past” in Duluth. Everything is wacky and dark this season, but the moments that relate to streaming and Maria’s own show are noticeably darker.

Beth Dubber/Netflix

There are some legitimate Netflix criticisms in Season 2. Lady Dynamite‘s jab that Muskovision will greenlight any idea is becoming a well-worn joke about Netflix, and Season 2’s concern that her show-within-a-show, Maria Bamford Is Nuts!, will trigger another breakdown is a through-line throughout this season. The real Bamford has revealed she had that same concern with Lady Dynamite. In an interview with the AV Club, Bamford admitted that Season 1’s 17-hour work days made her worried that she would have another episode. However, more than an overt criticism of Netflix, I see this new season as a jaded and conflicted reflection about how Bamford sees streaming, Hollywood, and her newfound fame as a whole.

Every company, if you follow enough threads and look under enough covers, is connected to greed. That’s especially true of the entertainment industry as we’re unfortunately learning more about every day. But Bamford has made it clear that she has a hard time believing she’s a “good” person when she constantly courts industries she sees as “evil,” which include Hollywood as a whole, Target, and now Netflix. This isn’t to say that Netflix and Target are objectively “evil,” but Bamford clearly sees big corporations in this light. She outright calls her Target stand-in “evil” in Season 1 of Lady Dynamite, and in her special Ask Me About My New God!, she explicitly dives into the guilt she feels from profiting from large corporations. This balance is something Bamford has struggled with for years. Of course her honest portrayal of developing a Netflix show would share the same guilt-laced themes.

As I interpret Bamford’s work, success is always connected to questions and intense self-policing. Sure she has her own show, but what does that mean in the grand scheme of things? Is she sending the right message at the right time with Lady Dynamite (something that she explores with in-series criticisms of Season 1)? Is having your own show and benefiting from it selfish? Does the fact that Netflix gave her the money and platform mean that they withheld that opportunity from another, possibly more diverse voice? Was that fictional creator more “deserving” than Bamford?

This constant self-doubt plagues all of Bamford’s work, and it’s part of what makes her such a powerful creator. As someone who struggles with anxiety and depression, Bamford’s comedy has echoed my own insecurities. However, in fictional Maria’s world — and by extension the real Bamford’s world — only she is held to this unrealistic and aggressive criticism. When the fictional Maria interacts with similarly successful professionals like Patton Oswalt, Tig Notaro, Sarah Silverman, or Judd Appatow, she doesn’t chastise them about selling out, nor does she judge their choices. Instead she’s aggressively supportive, and that disconnect between how she treats her friends vs. how she treats herself is supposed to feel jarring. Because of this, Bamford’s “criticisms” of Netflix and streaming don’t watch like actual criticisms to me. They’re another way insecurity and mental illness constrain Maria’s life.

Beth Dubber/Netflix

They also may be a criticism of us, her audience. Bamford only became popular to more mainstream audiences the more she opened up about her own mental illness. Yes, Netflix greenlighting a show about a comedian opening up about her mental illness may seem exploitative, but isn’t our odd fascination with the subject perverse as well? And where does that put Bamford, a creator who entered into this negotiation knowing that she was loved partially because of her treatment of mental illness? Lady Dynamite is far more interested in exploring those questions and what they mean to its creator than taking shots at Netflix.

And honestly, the allegation that Lady Dynamite is aggressively criticizing Netflix doesn’t hold up when you really examine the series. The main challenge of Maria Bamford Is Nuts! is that Maria almost immediately loses control of her show. It becomes a sexy space drama instead of anything about mental illness. Lady Dynamite is unapologetically a Maria Bamford creation, and it’s the most insightful show about mental illness currently on television. This is more of an opportunity for Bamford to share and criticize herself, her worldview, and her work than anything Netflix has done.

This is also coming from the service that has proven it knows how to take a joke. From BoJack‘s relentless ribbing of Fuller House to the “Netflix Is A Joke” ad campaign, Netflix has proven time and time again that it’s happy to make fun of itself, even if this time the mockery is less light-hearted and more biting. Lady Dynamite may joke about some elements of Netflix because that’s what Bamford as a self-aware and self-effacing creator does. However, thinking of the show as a giant middle finger to the network that created it is a mistake.